A Castellano Carol
by AEM77
Summary: Can a visit from three ghosts help Danny change the outcome of 'Christmas Party Sex Trap?
1. Chapter 1

"I was gonna go get a breath of fresh air."

"Yeah. I'm gonna stay. I gotta, I gotta clean up this mess."

"Okay."

Danny watches as Mindy walks out restraining himself to go after her and stop her from leaving. What just happened? Were they about to kiss? Would she have kissed him back or was this like the break room all over again? For all the heart-on-her-sleeve wearing she does, Mindy Lahiri can be impossible to read sometimes. And what if he _had_ kissed her and she _had_ kissed him back? What then? Would they date? Would he be her boyfriend? Lover? Husband one day? The thought has Danny reeling. He steps around his desk and sits down with a sigh, pulling out a bottle of whiskey hidden in his desk- no need telling Mindy about his secret stash when she's having so much fun with her wine bra- and pours a finger of the amber liquid into his waiting tumbler. The old wind-up clock on his desk chimes eleven o'clock.

But rather then taking a sip he stares absentmindedly at his glass as he swirls the whiskey around several times watching it coat the perimeter then streak back down to the base. He feels frustration boiling up inside of him and a twinge of regret. What was the matter with him? He had come to the unsettling realization that he had feelings for Mindy, deep feelings for her, a few weeks ago. He had even, almost, come to the decision that he was going to act on them, because really, who watches an Aaliyah video from 13 years ago again and again learning the choreography for a woman they aren't crazy about? And then she is standing there right in front of him, so close he can feel her body heat even through his clothing, and looking at him with something he's never seen from her before. And what does he do? Nothing. She was using step three of the mantrap…on him! God, he's an idiot.

Danny crosses the room to the office window to peek out into the courtyard. She is standing with her back to him. He thinks she may be fighting with a pigeon, a ridiculous scenario that is so _Mindy_ that it brings a smile to his face. The sight makes him feel lighter. This isn't some scary stranger he's fallen in love with. This is Mindy. Before any of the butterflies, or jackhammers really, started burgeoning in his stomach at the sight of her, she was his friend, his best friend, and whether she returns them or not, she isn't going to mock his feelings.

Feeling a new resolve and a burst of courage he makes to turn around and head out to the courtyard when movement catches his eye. A figure he soon identifies as Cliff is making his way to Mindy. They are talking together and the look on Mindy's face makes him feel as if he's been sucker-punched. It's not quite the look she'd given him minutes before, but he's seen it on her face enough times before when she's looked at Josh, Casey or any countless other number of jamokes. It's manic and radiant all at once and clearly shows she's smitten. His suspicions are confirmed the next moment when the two begin to kiss. He looks away up at the falling snow and wonders why he thought this time would be any different.

Sitting back at his desk, Danny tosses back the still full tumbler of whiskey in one go. This isn't the first time Danny's been disappointed in love. Even before the disaster that was his marriage he'd been getting his heart broken seemingly by everyone he'd ever given it to. God, he's been idiot. Mindy isn't into him. Just yesterday she told him all about her plan to seduce another man, one she was currently tonguing in the courtyard, to use her own colorful phrasing. How for even a second could he have deluded himself into believing that she wanted him? 'When are you going to learn, Castellano?' he chastises himself.

"Mindy's not for you. Maybe no one is." He whispers the words aloud in the hope the truth will penetrate his thick skull this time and save him any future embarrassment. He spends the next hour drinking more and more and planning his future dealings with Mindy. No more personal chats or shoulder bumps, just good old professional civility. It hurts to think of their close friendship slipping further and further away, but he reminds himself that seeing her with Cliff or anyone else for that matter will hurt more while he's walking around with these feelings eating him up inside. He's just finishing off his third double and is rallying himself to head home for the night when his clock chimes midnight.

The sound of a knock at his door causes him to sit up in his seat where he'd been slumping. In the next moment he rises to his feet as the door is swung open and a figure stands looming in the darkened common area beyond the threshold where everyone's long since gone home. As it moves forward into the office illuminated by the warm glow of the desk lamp, Danny can make out the features of his old boss. "Dr. Shulman?" Danny stutters feeling inexplicably like a schoolboy being caught at something, "What are you doing here? I thought you retired to Florida?"

If Dr. Shulman hears him he doesn't show it, just wanders into the office rather aimlessly and begins to fiddle with the things on Danny's desk. Just as Danny thinks his old senior partner must be senile or drunk and begins to reach for his phone to call someone for help, the older man looks up and pierces him with a sober and alert stare. "Do you know me, Danny? Do you know who I was?"

"You're Dr. Shulman," Danny says in a wary voice beginning to feel seriously freaked out. "My old boss," he continues as he makes his way around the older man towards the door. Maybe if he makes a break for the staircase, this nutjob won't be able to keep up. Being murdered by his recently insane old colleague would be a kinda fitting end to this terrible Christmas, he thinks to himself morosely all the while edging toward the door.

"I was like you," Dr. Shulman continues taking no note of Danny's obvious discomfort. "Buried in the job, closed off from others, loveless. It was too late for me, Danny," he looks up again and this time whether due to fright or curiosity Danny finds he can't move from his spot or tear his eyes away. "But it doesn't need to be for you." He takes the snow globe from Danny's desk that he had been idly juggling from hand to hand, a Secret Santa gift from Tamra, and suddenly throws it to the ground in front of Danny.

The globe cracks making a piercing sound much louder than it should as a snowy mist rises up from the broken glass filling the office and obscuring Danny's view of the apparition standing at his desk. He hears his voice though rising above the roar of wind and moans coming from the broken snow globe, "You'll be visited by three ghosts tonight, Danny. Heed their warning! A life without love is no life at all!"

Danny stumbles forward reaching his hands out in front of himself aimlessly grabbing for the office door, but finds himself tripping and falling into his armchair instead. He closes his eyes and brings his hands to cover his ears to protect himself from the onslaught of noise and snowy mist that are now overwhelming the office. Her hears the muffled cry of Dr. Shulman once more, "Heed their warning!" before falling into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Danny opens his eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight streaming through bay windows framed by familiar chintz curtains. As he moves to a sitting position he finds his cheek stuck to the vinyl cover of his mother's sofa. "Ma?" He calls, as he rises and goes to peek down the long hallway leading to the rest of the house. He's still groggy and trying to remember how a night of drinking in his office got him back to Staten, when he enters the small old fashioned kitchen and gives a yelp of surprise.

"Hiya douchebag! How they hangin'?" Stevie greets through a mouthful of sandwich. His childhood friend, clad in a bright green tracksuit with dazzling white K Swiss sneakers, is casually sitting at the small kitchen table taking giant bites out of a large deli sandwich.

"Stevie?" Danny asks in confusion. "What are you doing here, man? Last thing I remember I was drinking in my office. I must have passed out." He hopes Stevie will be able to fill in some of the blanks he has from last night. The last thing he can remember is wallowing over Mindy. God, he hopes he didn't do anything he'll regret.

He walks toward the counter to make an espresso from the fancy machine he bought his mother last Christmas. Except it isn't there. In its place he finds an old Chemex pot like she'd used when he and Richie were growing up. "Where'd she even find one of these?" He mutters to himself scratching at the back of his neck in confusion. Resigned he pours a mugful of the coffee and turns to Stevie, "I had this really crazy dream," he begins leaning his back against the counter, "It was so _real_ and I don't remember anything else after that. Did I act real stupid?"

"That was no dream, man," Stevie grins at him getting up from the table and moving toward the back door. "I'm your ghost of Christmas Past," he says proudly puffing out his chest. "Check this out," he says excitedly, as he walks right through the solid door and back again. "Is that friggin' badass or what?"

"Oh my God. I'm still stuck in this thing?" Danny asks incredulously sitting down at the table and burying his face in his hands. "Stevie, what the hell is going on?" He asks his friend helplessly.

"Don't look at me, man. You're the one who's doozie pats here, thinking you're Scrooge McDuck or some shit." Stevie replies with a shrug sitting back down at the table and picking up his sandwich once more.

"Would you watch your language? We're at my Ma's place." Danny chides going to smack Stevie on the back of his head but finding his hand just moves unpleasantly through his friend instead. "Jesus, that's creepy."

The two sit at the table for a while, Stevie munching happily away at his sandwich while Danny sits wondering when he'll wake up from this madness. He's idly pinching his arm when a thought strikes him. "Hey Stevie," his friend looks up at him with raised eyebrows, "aren't you supposed to," Danny gestures vaguely with his hands, "I don't know, show me something. You're my ghost, right? We're here at my Ma's, _in the past_. What are we doing here?"

"Beats me," says Stevie with a shrug. "Wanna go see if your Hustlers are still under your mattress?" He asks.

"No I don't want to go see if my magazines are still there," Danny stands angrily. He tries and fails to yank Stevie up alongside him as his hand grasps uselessly at thin air. "Would you put that food down, already? Jeez. C'mon let go, you ciuccio " Danny demands gesturing to his friend to stand and directing him out of the kitchen and out into the hall.

The two continue to argue as they move back towards the living room at the front of the house. Danny is certain they'd be tussling by now if they could only get their hands on one another. But their animated discussion of whose mother is more in need of a home remodel is interrupted by the sight of a young Richie Castellano kneeling beside a sparsely but lovingly decorated aluminum Christmas tree. He is studying a long wrapped box, turning it over again and again brows furrowed in thought.

"It's Richie!" Says Danny happily, for the first time genuinely pleased with whatever this magic is that has taken him hostage. "Oh my God. I _remember_ this Christmas! That's the Ken doll Richie wanted so badly," he tells Stevie over his shoulder. "Man, he wouldn't shut up about it for months. You should have seen his face when he opened it," Danny beams fondly recalling the memory.

"I think I'm seeing it right now," says Stevie with a bark of laughter as Danny turns his attention back to the tree to see Richie covertly peeling back the taped edges of the gift and peeking inside. "That little…" Danny mutters, "I knew he didn't seem that surprised!" He makes a note to give Richie a call when he wakes up from whatever this is.

"Nah, Richie's a good kid. You did good there, Danny," Stevie says kindly. His words fill Danny with pride and he throws a lopsided grin over his shoulder at his friend. But closely following that emotion he feels a stab of something else. "This was our first Christmas without Dad." And just like that Danny knows what they're there to see. "C'mon," he tells Stevie and starts back down the corridor towards his Mom's room.

His first thought is that she is so much younger than he remembers. His mother isn't _old_ now per se but when Danny thinks of her from growing up he remembers a mature, responsible adult. This woman here, crying in her nightgown clutching her ten-year-old son in her arms like a lifeline, looks barely out of high school. She's nearly a decade younger than he is now and while this particular memory is a rough one, he and Richie had a pretty great time of it growing up. He suddenly wonders if he's running out of time. If having a family is something he'll never get to experience.

Danny can sense Stevie's embarrassment at being privy to such a private scene, as the other man has busied himself dutifully studying the wooden crucifix hanging on the wall opposite the bed. By the rules of whatever the hell this is, he should be able to stomp into the room banging a marching drum without anyone raising an eyebrow, but still Danny needlessly creeps closer to the pair on the bed to better hear the conversation taking place.

"Please Ma, please don't cry," he can hear his own small prepubescent voice slightly muffled by his mother's shoulder pleading as he awkwardly strokes her hair.

God, he hasn't thought of this moment in ages, but seeing it recreated in front of him is seriously messing him up. He's never forgiven his father for walking out on them and leaving his mother all alone to raise two young boys, but he hasn't felt the heat of his hatred in a really long time. He's reminded of all the nights he lay awake imagining what it would feel like to punch the SOB in his face. Unconsciously his hands make fists at his sides and its not until he feels his fingernails digging into his palms that he unclenches them.

Looking back to the bed he sees his mother's recovered herself somewhat and has released him from her tight embrace. She now holds him at arms length so that she can look him in the eye.

"Promise me something, Danny," she begins, voice thick with tears.

"Anything, Ma."

"Promise me you'll be careful who you give your heart to."

"I promise," comes the reply. And Danny is surprised to hear his own voice joining with his younger self.

He stays several moments staring at the scene before him till a hand on his shoulder startles him from his reverie. "C'mon boss. Time to go," Stevie says as he ushers Danny from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

As they walk through the doorway, Danny is surprised not to feel the soft plush of his mother's carpet under his feet but rather hardwood. One look at the Brooklyn loft they're standing in and he knows he isn't going to like this visit. "Oh boy," he mutters under his breath. There are about a hundred bad memories he and Christina shared here and he is not looking forward to witnessing any of them.

"Hey, Danny," Stevie calls beside him. "Where we at now? This ain't gonna take long is it? Cause I got a hot date with Monica later tonight, remember Vinny's little sister? Yeah, she ain't so little any more, if you know what I mean," he laughs. "Only I hope she's able to touch me, ya know? Otherwise it kinda defeats the whole purpose. Whoa…hello!" Stevie exclaims as they turn the corner of the long hallway and step into the loft.

In a corner of the room stands a large king sized bed. Christina lays splayed atop it, her head resting on several oversized decorative pillows. She is nearly unrecognizable to Danny, not so much due to her long hair and bangs but rather the young almost naïve expression she's wearing.

Clad in black-laced lingerie, she bends one of her long toned legs, bringing her knee up to her chin and puts on a seductive pout, "Welcome home, Danny," she purrs. But the next moment the spell is broken as she starts to giggle. "Okay, okay," she tells herself through spurts of laughter, "too much." She composes herself and tries again, "Hi honey. How was your day?" Her demeanor is less sultry this time which ironically has the effect of making her seem that much more desirable.

"Damn, lil' D," Stevie exclaims ogling the woman before them. "Is that Christina? She's a straight up ten, man! How the hell you manage to screw that up?"

"Alright, alright," Danny implores trying to obscure Stevie's view of the bed and deter him from memorializing the sight with the camera phone he's produced from his coat pocket. This may all be a figment of his imagination, and Christina may be his ex-wife but he still doesn't like the idea of his friend seeing her like this. The feeling is uncomfortably similar to how he felt when Stevie had spent an afternoon grabbing Mindy's ass in the ice cream parlor. He's just recognizing it now as jealousy. Jesus, how long has this thing he has for Mindy been going on?

The argument between the two escalates, as fights between them are wont to do, when they are distracted by the sound of keys in the front door. They turn simultaneously to see a younger Danny coming through the entrance. As he removes a snow dusted ski cap and scarf, Danny gives a small laugh at his younger self's appearance. If the years had changed Christina somewhat, they've made him almost unrecognizable. He looks laughably young to Danny, skinny and unsophisticated in a pair of light blue scrubs, like a kid playing at doctor. He tries to imagine how he'd feel to have this guy come into the delivery room if he were an expectant father. None to confident he guesses.

Young Danny shuffles past them, exhaustion flowing off of him in waves. Danny remembers these days well, the long hours at the hospital, the seemingly constant sense of inadequacy around the senior doctors, the disappointment he always seemed to be evoking in Christina. His eyes land on the woman in question now as she recites her rehearsed greeting, sexy smile in place.

He knows how this is going to play out. Not necessarily because he has a clear memory of this particular Christmas night, but rather because there were so many more just like it. What he doesn't know is how painful it is to watch, his weary rejection, her hurt expression, his justification. _He's tired. He's been working twenty straight hours. He's doing this for them. What did she expect marrying a resident?_ They both look relieved when his pager goes off and he excuses himself to the other room to make the call to the hospital. What he hasn't seen before, but is seeing now is how she throws one of the pillows after his retreating form, angry tears running down her pretty face.

Witnessing the exchange has left him weary. He turns from the bed and sinks into one of the oversized chairs that constitute the loft's seating area burying his face in his hands. "I know what you're gonna say," he begins defensively imagining the shit Stevie is going to give him for leaving a beautiful woman like Christina alone and wanting on Christmas.

But it isn't Stevie's voice that answers. "You do?! Wait tell me what you think it's going to be and I'll tell you if you're right," comes the loud boom of Morgan's voice. Peeking through his fingers Danny sees the familiar view of his office. "Little hint," Morgan continues, "It may or may not be an apology for using your autographed Yankees World Championship baseball to play fetch with one of my dogs. But before you get mad, know I resigned Mariano Rivera's name and nobody will ever be able to tell the difference."


	4. Chapter 4

For a moment he lets himself believe it's over. He fell asleep after the Christmas party, had a crazy dream and now Morgan's checking in on his way home for the evening. His desk clock strikes 2 and his hoped for scenario gets slightly less probable.

Though Morgan _is_ known to pop into the office at all hours. He could easily be here in the middle of the night running a secret dog pound, practicing Bikram yoga in the hot pipe room or engaging in any other number of bizarre and highly unprofessional late night activities. Danny quickly peeks through his fingers, still shielding his eyes, at the man in question- Morgan _could_ be engaged in some Morgan-esque madness whilst eating a bucket of chicken and wearing a shaggy forest green bathrobe and nothing else. But it's unlikely. Ugh. Yeah, this nightmare is still happening.

Resigned to continuing on with this evening from hell, Danny walks warily towards the eccentric nurse, finger extended with the intention to poke the other man. If he's a Christmas spirit thingy then his finger will slide right through and if not; well, Morgan should know better than to sit at Danny's desk putting his greasy chicken fingers on all of his things.

'Poke away, Dr. C' Morgan tells him waggling his eyebrows, as Danny's finger meets his shoulder and travels through, meeting no resistance. Danny sighs heavily as he drops his hand to his side. "What now?" He asks in frustration, his head tipped back, more so addressing the ceiling than Morgan.

"Cheer up, Dr. C," Morgan grins widely at him, "_Now_ we fly. Here hold on," he instructs handing one of the robe's belt ends to Danny.

Danny tentatively takes the proffered cloth only to nearly drop it in disgust a moment later. "Ugh, Morgan! Why is this damp?"

He can hear Morgan begin defensively, "Well forgive me for wanting to be freshly showered for your haunting…" before his voice is lost in a whir of wind and indistinct chattering. He squints against the barrage of sights and sounds that encompass them as he sees the walls of his office fall away to reveal a hundred different scenes of New York at Christmas time. Just when he begins to adjust to the sensation of flying through the cold winter air and the hurried visions of ice skating at Rockefeller Plaza and shopping at Macy's, he feels it come to a halt as he and Morgan land hard against a long wooden bar, feet slamming down onto the tiled floor below.

He's still regaining his equilibrium when his name spoken in Jeremy's accent draws his eyes to a high bar table where his colleagues are sitting. "Danny," Jeremy mocks, dragging out the 'a' sound, "would never eat a building's worth of gingerbread. And Mindy," he hesitates amid his self-deprecating rant to consider, "Well actually, Mindy would. But you don't see that stopping her from seizing the day, carpe diem and the rest of it. Did you see her leaving with that handsome lawyer chap from across the hall? You go, you beautiful pudgy vixen," he slurs slightly raising his high caloric Baileys and Cream to an imaginary Mindy sitting somewhere at the bar beyond them.

"There, there Dr. Reed," Betsy comforts, patting his arm. "I'm sure there are plenty of nice women in New York who wouldn't mind dating a handsome doctor like yourself, even if you have destroyed your once perfect physique and aren't getting any younger." If Betsy notices her words of comfort leave Jeremy looking infinitely sadder she doesn't show it, smiling beatifically at him as she continues her ministrations, patting his head now, which he's rested onto the table.

"That's right," Tamra chimes in. "Looks aren't everything. Look at Dr. Castellano. He may have a hot ass body, but you don't see him getting lucky with anyone." Betsy nods vigorously and adds breathlessly her eyes going slightly unfocused, "His body is a work of art: beautiful and untouchable."

"Betsy," Jeremy says a bit louder than normal to rouse her from her reverie as he sits upright at the table once more, "you've got something right there." He gestures to the side of her mouth where a small trail of drool has begun to travel down her chin. "Oh man," Morgan laughs beside Danny, "looks like someone is hot for a piece of Dr. C!"

"Eew, Morgan. No. Just stop, will ya?" Danny sputters taking a swat at Morgan realizing too late that he won't be able to make it land. He makes a note to wear baggier shirts when he's around Betsy from now on.

He shushes Morgan once more as the other man continues to giggle loudly, stepping forward a few paces to better hear his colleagues' conversation. What else were they going to say about him? Were they going to criticize his piano playing? Bring up the sweating? Probably the sweating, he thinks. Dammit, that's a biological function. Totally out of his control!

"Danny's real problem is that he's a coward," Jeremy states sounding suddenly much more sober.

His first reaction is outrage, 'He thinks I'm a coward? We'll see how cowardly he thinks I am when I'm feeding him his own teeth.' But his anger turns to confusion when he sees Betsy and Tamra nodding enthusiastically.

"Mm-hmm," Tamra continues. "Take Ray-Ron and me. I know I'm out of his league, but I love that web-footed fool. It don't matter that I look so amazing or that he has the IQ of a 7th grader, we share the same soul, you know?" For whatever reason, this pronouncement has Morgan pouting beside him, all merriment from earlier gone. Danny ignores him to better focus on Tamra. What does that idiot, Ray-Ron, have to do with his being a coward?

"When you love somebody, all that matters is that you're honest with them, _vulnerable_. It's like my Auntie Cheryl always says, 'Love is having your heart beat outside of your own body.' You gotta put all of yourself into someone else's hands and trust they don't crush you. That kind of love? That takes some serious courage."

"Tamra," Jeremy says earnestly, "that was absolutely beautiful."

"Plus, Ray-Ron's got this really rich old uncle that could go at any minute," Tamra finishes, causing Jeremy's beaming smile to falter slightly. But Danny's already stopped paying much attention. He'd always thought he was protecting himself, being smart. But maybe what Tamra said was true. Maybe he's alone because he isn't willing to put himself out there, not fully anyhow. Sure you never lose that way, but you also never win.

"C'mon Morgan," he says turning away from the scene before him, "what's next?"

"Actually I think there's one more part that you should probably stay for," Morgan begins gesturing back to the table. "Betsy was just going to tell it. A really sad tale. About a man and his friend, Tiny T-bone. A sweet little puppy looking for a good home," Morgan continues.

"Nope." Danny says concisely. "Not gonna happen."

"But if kindly doctors don't agree to let Tiny T-bone stay at the practice I see an abandoned collar and leash this time next year," Morgan drives on, trying and failing to direct Danny back to their colleagues who have indeed begun talking about the latest stray mutt Morgan is hoping to house at the office.

"You know it's been a real long time since I last read Dickens, but I don't seem to recall the ghosts manipulating things for their own purposes. No more dogs, Morgan. I mean it!" Danny continues as the 2 men make their way out of the bar and out into the cold winter night.


	5. Chapter 5

"So what now?" Danny asks, shoving his hands aggressively into his jean pockets. The temperature seems to have dropped significantly in the short time they've been in the bar and the colder air and the uncomfortable truths he'd heard about himself from his colleagues have him feeling irritable.

Morgan seems to have lost his enthusiasm for the whole enterprise as well and is absent-mindedly kicking at a pile of snow muttering something about horrible boyfriends, the cost of dog licenses and sore backs.

"Morgan!" Danny yells, "Can we get this thing moving please!"

"Sure," Morgan sighs heavily offering Danny the robe belt once more. "Sorry, Dr. C. It's just that being a ghost isn't quite as glamorous as I thought, you know? No one can see you so you can't scare anyone, I'm only supposed to fly to places you're supposed to go, and sometimes you hear things you don't really want to know," he whines ticking off his disappointments on his fingers.

"You can say that again, buddy." Danny says taking the fabric gingerly between his thumb and pointer finger. "So where are we off to now?"

"Florida," Morgan smiles perking up a bit, "or as it's known by its nickname, 'The Nation's Wang'!" The wind begins to swirl around them once more as Danny feels his feet begin to rise off of the sidewalk. "I'm pretty sure Florida's nickname is 'The Sunshine State,'" he corrects as they take off into the night. In just moments the visions of pines twinkling with Christmas lights have given way to palm trees and flamingos in Santa hats as they land softly on a large wooden deck extending off of a stucco condo onto the beach.

A young man sits on a patio lounger flipping through a pile of holiday cards on his lap. "I still cannot believe you used this picture of us!" He yells to someone inside, grimacing at a photo card. "I've got that weird thing going on where one of my arms looks super big and the other super tiny."

"Quit whining, Jamie" Richie Castellano says fondly, coming up behind him and handing him one of two beers he's brought onto the deck before joining him in the adjacent lounger. "I think you look quite handsome."

"Charmer," the other man smirks. "So I've got these nearly all addressed and stamped so we may, for once, actually get them out before the holiday."

"It's a Christmas miracle," Richie jokes.

"Just a few questions," Jamie begins shuffling the cards and envelopes in his lap before holding one up to the porch light to better read the names written on it. "Which address should I use for Danny and Christina? The Manhattan one or the Jersey one?"

"Ugh." Richie says turning his head back to look up into the sky, "I forgot to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Jamie asks curiously.

"About Danny. He and Christina are done, through, kaput."

"No!" Jamie says. Then after a nod from Richie, "He is going to die alone."

"Come on. That's not fair," Richie begins as Danny snorts in surprised anger. "Tell us how you really feel, Jamie," Danny barks at his brother's partner.

"You know I love your brother," Jamie placates, "but you have to admit he's not the warmest guy."

"Danny can be a jerk, I know," Richie deflects, "but he's not cold, not at all. It's all an act. He's like a soft little marshmallow, a tiny kitten, a tender little bunny…" Richie continues naming every silly example of softness he can think of.

"Alright, alright. That's enough," Danny tells Richie loudly over Morgan's giggling.

"That may be," Jamie continues unrelenting, "but he is going to act his way right into spinsterdom."

"That's ridiculous, Jamie" Danny yells gesturing angrily at the other man, clearly too upset to remember he can't hear him. "Men can't even _be_ spinsters!"

"You know he's had a lot of bad experiences, our Dad, Christina. He's been betrayed a lot. It's hard for him to get close to new people. But once he does, forget about it. He's as loyal and caring as anyone could be." Richie says earnestly and Danny feels a rush of love for his little brother.

"God, you're cute when you're defending your family. Do you know that?" Jamie says smiling as he reaches a hand across the space between the two chairs taking Richie's hand in his own. "I know Danny is great. You know he's great. I just worry the secret dies with us."

"I worry too," Richie admits finally looking down at their joined hands and sighing. "I wish he'd talk to our Dad," he begins and Danny can feel the muscles in his back tighten at his words.

"I think it would go a long way to giving him closure," Richie finishes. God Danny hates that word. Mindy was always going on and on about closure as well. "It's a fantasy, Richie," he yells uselessly, "a god damned fantasy."

"C'mon, Morgan. Let's get out of here." He turns to stride angrily away when he is brought up short by a bony hand grasping his wrist. It doesn't belong to Morgan and he isn't on the porch any longer.

"Not so fast, mister," Beverly wheezes at him. "We've got a wedding to get to."


	6. Chapter 6

The church is one of the newer sorts, with clean white walls and dramatic stained glassed windows that cast abstract geometric rainbows throughout the room. One look at the large assembly of Indian men and women in rich colorful silk saris and dhotis tell him quite clearly whose wedding they've come to. He leaves Beverly in the vestibule as he walks along the aisle looking for familiar faces. He stops about 2/3 of the way to the altar when he recognizes the blonde head of Mindy's best friend Gwen.

"Okay, out with it," Carl says laying the wedding program down beside him on the church pew and turning towards his wife who's been fidgeting and sighing heavily the whole past half hour. "What's bugging you?"

"Nothing," Gwen answers unconvincingly. But after a pause, "I don't think Mindy's happy," she whispers hurriedly looking nervously around the church to be certain she hasn't been overheard.

"What?" Carl exclaims loudly not bothering to lower his voice, "That's absurd! You saw her last night at the rehearsal dinner. She was practically radiating happiness."

"But that's just it!" Gwen responds moving to better face him and inching several inches closer. "I think she was faking it," she continues conspiratorially. I do!" She hisses in response to the incredulous look he shoots her. "And keep your voice down!"

"Alright, alright! Relax," he whispers back with fond exasperation. "So Sherlock, enlighten me. _Why_ do you think she isn't happy?"

"I don't know." Gwen admits with irritation, "It's just this vibe I'm getting. She doesn't seem like herself."

"Well, I'll give you that," Carl laughs. And then in a smaller voice after a warning look from Gwen, "Look, I love Mindy. I really do. But she used to be kind of a train wreck. I think being with Cliff has been really good for her."

"Yeah," Gwen concedes, "but something's off. I mean she gave up sugar, quit medicine. She even gave a speech last night at the rehearsal dinner that didn't end in drunken humiliation."

"Wait. She quit being a doctor?" Danny demands from an oblivious Gwen.

"Yeah, yeah. That's what she said. Now will you put a lid on it? I'm trying to watch the pretty people argue," Beverly gripes, swatting Danny roughly in the chest with the back of her hand.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Carl laughs. "Look, you know Cliff didn't _make _her do any of those things, right? That guy is totally whipped. He'd love Mindy if she lived on sugar and public spectacle."

"Yeah. I guess," Gwen says still sounding uncertain.

"You're probably just picking up on some pre-wedding jitters. Everyone gets them. I seem to recall someone locking themselves in the church's restroom for a few hours the morning before she married her soul mate." He squeezes her knee affectionately, which earns him a quick peck on the lips. "So let's just relax, get through the service and then get to the open bar."

"Amen, brother!" Beverly exclaims beside him, recalling Danny to himself. He goes to roll his eyes at her, when their trajectory is halted by the vision of Mindy standing at the church's entrance.

He still maintains that she looks best in scrubs, but this wedding gown is a close second. It is simple and elegant and not at all the dress the Mindy he knows would choose. She has lost those 15 pounds he had always bugged her about and looks absolutely stunning, like one of those models in those fashion magazines she is always leaving in the break room. And while he'd be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to her, he's got to agree with Gwen on this one, as she moves nearer and nearer up the aisle. Something is off.

Because in reality, he never really minded the 15 pounds. Quite the opposite really. And he'd grown to like the over-the-top outfits she wore because they were loud and pushy like her. And he loved her in an operating room, where he felt he was seeing her truest self: confident, competent and compassionate. Shit. He was in love with Mindy. He was in love with Mindy and she was marrying someone else.

With only the slightest embarrassed glance to Beverly he moves to stand directly in front of Cliff. It's only a half-thought out impulse, to play act just for a second that he's the man she's walking toward. She demurely raises her eyes to Cliff's and he tries to catalogue the look amongst the many he's seen from her, the many he's gotten from her. And just like that he knows, _Dammit! At least he thinks he knows_. She's faking it. This is a role she's playing, the blushing bride. His heart elevates in his chest. _She doesn't love him! _Even as it sinks to the pit of his stomach. _She isn't happy_.

He moves slightly to the side as Mindy steps up to the altar to better analyze her face. His confidence is wavering now. How can he be certain how she feels? He has the impulse to follow her around forever in this shadowy form, waiting for some revelation, some indisputable evidence that Cliff isn't what she wants, that he may have a chance. He can sense Beverly getting impatient behind him, even as he silently begs for more time all the while scanning Mindy's face for answers.

"Come on. Time to go." Beverly says behind him tugging persistently at his arm. "Let's move it along."

He swings around to argue with her, only to find the same words in another's voice echoing through his apartment's hallway. "Come on. Nothing to see here. Move it along." A police officer booms to a few of his neighbors who have gathered along the wall opposite his door. He can make out Amy in the crowd, a spattering of gray in her auburn hair placing them somewhere in the not so distant future.

His door swings open suddenly to permit a pair of paramedics to manipulate a stretcher carrying a heavy load hidden under a thick wool blanket over the threshold and along the narrow hallway toward the elevators. Danny turns to glare incriminatingly at Beverly, panic rising up in him. "I'm dead?" He whispers.

"Of course," Beverly booms casually. "How'd you think this thing was gonna end?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: My apologies if the pacing of these final chapters seem a bit rushed. I won't really have much time in the upcoming months to write and I couldn't stand the thought of leaving this incomplete. Nearly finished now. Thanks so much, for reading and reviewing.**

He looks back at Amy who couldn't have aged more than ten or so years, fifteen tops. "How am I dead already? I have a good body. I work out all the time." He snaps defensively at Beverly, his voice getting comically high pitched.

"Don't look at me," Beverly deflects. "Why don't you take it up with that deli where you're always getting those salty salami sandwiches. Maybe you didn't smoke enough," she finishes thoughtfully.

"Fine. Fine," Danny huffs. "I've read the story. I know how this goes," he says trying to calm himself. He's pretty sure, like Scrooge, he'll get a reprieve at the end of this insane journey but the image of his corpse upon the stretcher has him more rattled than he'd like to admit. "Let's just get this over with," he says moving towards the two police officers standing in front of his apartment.

"Man," the younger one begins, "that guy wasn't much older than my old man."

"It's a real shame," his partner offers, not sounding even remotely regretful.

"How's a guy get to be so alone?" The first cop continues. "No wife, no kids. Guess he had some family over on the Island, but none of them seemed too surprised to hear he'd…" he trails off, running a finger along his neck to mime Danny's demise.

"Yup." The older cop replies noncommittally.

"C'mon, Tony." The first officer says with some exasperation. "I know you're 'Mr. Tough Guy Super Cop' but you can't tell me finding that guy after two weeks rotting away in his apartment all by himself isn't wigging you out even a little."

"Ooh," Beverly trills behind him, "Two weeks! Damn. And I thought I was unpopular!"

"Alright. Enough." Danny all but screams at Beverly. "What are you playing at here? I get that I'm a loser and I'm sweaty and I'm gonna end up alone, but come on! Two weeks? You're telling me no one noticed I…" Danny mimics the officer's slashing movement from before, "I mean, come on! I've got friends!"

"Nope." Beverly corrects popping the 'p' sound, "You _had_ friends. Good ones too. Until you decided it was too risky, that it hurt too much to keep them around."

"What about Mindy?" Danny asks quietly not meeting Beverly's eyes. He can't imagine a scenario where she isn't a part of his life, even in some small way.

"You mean your 'professional colleague'?" Beverly mocks. "Honey, do you really think she'd stick around for you to politely blow her off? Haw!" she laughs cruelly. "Why do you think she left the practice?"

"That was because of me?" And nothing Danny has experienced yet this evening has hurt him half as much as this information does.

"Do you know what your problem is?" Beverly asks poking him roughly in the chest with one of her long bony fingers. Her nudge causes Danny to lose his footing and stumble backwards from her. He laughs humorlessly to himself. Before tonight he wasn't aware he _had_ any problems. Boy was he wrong!

"You're in the wrong Christmas story." She continues. "This isn't _It's A Wonderful Life_. I'm no Clarence, and you sure as hell ain't no George Bailey. Jimmy Stewart had at least six inches on you and a face that could melt your panties." Danny face contorts in disgust at Beverly's choice of words.

"No one's life is getting any better because you're pushing them away. You think you're being selfless but you're really being selfish. You're too afraid of getting hurt, too chicken shit to be a friend, lover, brother, _son_," she stresses the last word importantly.

"You think I'm afraid?" Danny asks scratching nervously at the back of his neck. Beverly is the third person tonight to accuse him of cowardice.

"Yes! That's what I just said!" Beverly exclaims, poking him sternly once more causing him to shuffle a few more paces toward the end of the hall. "Jesus. I thought you were supposed to be intelligent, Mr. Doctor-Man. Apparently they're giving out medical degrees to any old smuck these days!"

"Okay. Okay!" He cries grabbing her hand to keep her from poking him again. "I get it. I really do. No more pushing people away. Being more honest. Being more generous with myself. I get it. I really do. I want to. I _will_. So just, I don't know," he gestures vaguely with his free hand, "get us out of here. Get me back to the present. Get me back to Mindy."

"Sorry, Brown Eyes," Beverly says looking really and truly sorry as she reaches around him with her free hand to press the button for the elevator he finds himself backed up against. "No can do," she finishes sadly as the elevator doors open with a ding to reveal an empty shaft. She sends him reeling into the darkness with one final push.


	8. Chapter 8

His head makes a hollow cracking sound that seems to reverberate within his skull as it slams into a hard unbending surface. Keeping his eyes clenched tight he moves his hand to his hair where he can feel a warm sticky liquid pooling. 'Blood', he thinks rubbing his fingers together.

But after a moment as the loud thud of his heartbeat has softened and the pressure that had been building behind his temples relents, he peeks through bleary eyes and takes in the clock upon his office desk as it chimes six o'clock. He lifts his head and rolls it from shoulder to shoulder listening with some perversity to the crackle his movements elicit from his bone and sinew. He sees now that it was not blood he has been laying in, but whiskey. He quickly rights the overturned tumbler and mops up the remaining spill with loose papers lying on his desk. He doesn't need to see the snow globe from Tamra, whole and intact, sitting across from him to know that the nightmare is over.

For a moment, he considers ignoring the experience. Going home, taking a much-needed shower, and slowly putting his plan to pull back from Mindy into action. It's definitely the easier path. Danny's been retreating his whole life; it's as second nature to him as breathing. But where has it gotten him? He'd held back in his marriage and he'd still felt the full force of Christina's infidelity. He's been holding back with Mindy, but he still feels rejected every time she steps out with a seemingly endless stream of suitors. He's been holding back with his father since the night he'd come home to see his Buick missing in the garage and he's been acutely feeling the betrayal again and again ever since. It would seem he's been protecting himself in name only and robbing himself of any real chance of happiness in the process.

'Time to man up,' he thinks to himself. And while it may be wiser to go home, grab a shower and collect himself a bit before he takes any initiative to change his predicament, he's afraid to put this off too long. So he sits up straighter in his chair, smooths down his rumpled clothing, runs a hand through his whiskey-damp hair and picks up the phone.

It rings only twice before going to voicemail. Danny isn't sure if his call is being ignored because it's him or because it's a quarter past six on Saturday morning. Her voice sounds overly loud through his receiver as she apologizes for missing his call and asks him to leave her a short message.

"Christina. Hi. This is Danny. Your ex-husband," he adds needlessly. He can't imagine she knows many Dannys with heavy New York accents and besides she'd probably recognize the number. "Sorry. I know this is kind of a weird message but I just want to call and apologize to you." He pauses, wanting to be sure to say this exactly the right way. "I know I never fully committed to you, to _us_," he stresses. "That doesn't make what you did okay," he adds quickly because it doesn't, "but I just wanted you to know that I know I didn't always make it easy." He stalls for a moment, not really sure how to wrap this whole thing up. "I hope you have a real nice Christmas, Christina. A real nice, Everything. Okay? Bye now."

He rests the receiver back into its cradle and he feels a little bit of weight lift off of him in the process. 'Well how do you like that?' he laughs to himself. 'So that's what closure feels like. Not bad."

His mirth is cut short though as he focuses his attention on his next call. Christina is small potatoes compared to the call to Mindy he's about to make. He's expecting another quick pass to voicemail so he is a little thrown off when Mindy herself answers the line.

"Danny?" she hisses voice thick with sleep and panic. "God Danny. Speak to me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Mindy. Relax." He smiles to himself. Of course Mindy wouldn't send him to voicemail. And she won't let his corpse rot in his apartment for two weeks either. Heck, he can't even get through a half hour without some inane text message from her.

"What do you mean nothing's wrong?" She whispers accusingly. Danny can only assume her whispers mean she's trying not to wake someone beside her. He wonders if she and Cliff are at his apartment or hers and then tries very hard _not_ to wonder about it. Worrying too hard over her and Cliff will only make what he is about to do more difficult. "Hold on," she continues, her sleepy worried whisper replaced by a low angry growl.

After a moment and what sounds like a gently shut door she comes back on the line speaking normally, "Daniel Castellano, you tell me immediately right now what is so urgent you need to wake me up before the sun on a Saturday morning!"

"Open your blinds, Min" Danny laughs. "The sun's been up for like twenty minutes already." He's stalling, but she makes it so easy sometimes to banter, to say everything to one another except the important stuff.

"Listen Mindy," he begins, "I need you to shut up for a few minutes, okay? I've got something important to say."

"Excuse me?" she demands voice full of outrage. And really, what the hell is the matter with him? Why is he so bad at this?

He gets up from his desk only half listening to her angry retorts of "How dare you?" and "You called me!" as he paces around his office trying to formulate an escape route. Why on earth did he ever think this was a good idea?

He picks up the baseball from his desk and practices the fingering for a knuckleball, a nervous tick he picked up in little league while waiting in the bullpen, when he looks down and sees something that gives him a spark of courage.

"Mindy!" He barks to interrupt her wrath, "just hold on for a sec, okay?" He takes her silence as permission to charge ahead.

"Look, I know the timing of this is terrible, and I'm not just talking about the hour. You just got together with Cliff and you really like him. I get that okay and I'm really sorry but I've got to do this and I've got to do it now or I'll never forgive myself."

He pauses just long enough for Mindy to begin, "What though? What are you sorry for?" But he can tell by the soft almost scared quality of her voice that she probably already knows where he's going with this.

"I just needed to tell you," he trails off. 'Now or never Danny-boy', he tells himself.

"I needed to tell you that I like you," he grimaces at the word choice. "You know, like that. I _like_ like you." Why, oh why, doesn't he keep a sword in his office? He idly picks up his letter opener from his desk wondering if he can kill himself with it but bravely charges on like the fool he is.

"And I know you don't feel the same. And I've tried for a long time to ignore it," he keeps talking, more loudly now to interrupt the polite rejection he imagines she's trying to give him.

"Just, don't say anything. Okay? We can talk about it more when I get back. I'll take you to a nice diner so you can let me down properly," he laughs darkly. Then continuing more earnestly, "We can fix it so that everything goes back to the way it was. I promise. I just needed you to know. I couldn't sit around anymore resenting you for not choosing me, when I never even gave you a choice."

The silence on the other end is so loud that he almost believes she's hung up on him till he hears her voice, very small, ask him, "Where are you going?"

"Just a short trip. Something I've got to take care of. I'll leave all the details with Bets." He answers for the second time that morning trying to remember how people normally end telephone conversations.

"Okay. I'm gonna go now, Mindy. Don't hate me, okay?" he asks voice quivering a bit as he feels the full repercussions of what he's admitted come to rest on his shoulders.

"I don't hate you, Danny." She answers and he thinks she might be crying a little.

"I'm gonna hang up now, Min. Okay? Don't be sad. I promise we'll fix this." He goes to hang up when he sees the baseball once more resting next to the telephone. He raises the receiver back to his ear with a small smile on his lips. "Hey Mindy? You still there? Do me a favor, will ya? Let Morgan know Mariano Rivera spells his name with one 'r', not two."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Finished at last! Thank you so much for keeping up with this story and for all the kind reviews. Hope this last chapter doesn't disappoint!**

Danny hates moving walkways. Sure they're helpful for getting through the terminal but there's always so much pressure to keep walking on them. 'Even though they've clearly been designed so you don't _have_ to walk,' he thinks glaring at the back of the head of the woman who's rudely pushed past him on her way to her gate.

He knows he's at his grumpiest but he thinks given the circumstances he should get a pass. It's not every day you get to apologize to your unfaithful ex-wife, jeopardize your most important relationship and top it off with a goodwill tour to the man who abandoned you as a child.

Richie had been ecstatic when Danny'd called for their Father's phone number. A few terse words between himself and the man he hadn't seen in nearly three decades had settled the plan and he'd gotten a plane ticket and hopped in a cab for JFK.

While he'd been reluctant to do anything about it, he had known that his Christmas spirits were right about Christina and Mindy. They deserved to hear the truth for him, apologies, professions and all. But he was still on the fence about his Dad. How did this closure business work anyways? Would he have to forgive the bastard or was a face to face discussion with the man enough? It's times like this when he most misses having someone in his life. He's not sure how this meeting is going to go, but he'd sure like to have some sort of buffer between himself and his Dad, someone there on his side.

His thoughts are interrupted by the unexpected sight of Mindy standing at his gate engaged in what appears to be a very heated argument with one of the airline representatives. She is dressed in a very yellow overcoat and overly high heeled pumps and stands beside a much too large for carry-on suitcase. His heart leaps at the sight.

"Don't you 'madam' me, mister!" Mindy is saying with indignation. "I am clearly in my early twenties and therefore a 'Miss'. Now I know he's on this flight so why don't you just get behind your little counter and get onto your little computer and tell me his seat number!"

The gentleman dealing with Mindy has the expression of someone who is quickly running out of patience. "Mindy!" Danny calls out mostly to interrupt her diatribe and prevent her imminent removal by the TSA.

She looks back at him with a slight air of embarrassment before returning her attention to the agent to say haughtily, "Here he is now. I told you we were friends."

She makes her way to him slowly, awkwardly lugging her bag behind her and apologizing to a handful of fellow passengers she manages to bump on her way away from the crowded counter. "Oh, hi Danny! How's it going?" She asks with false casualness.

"How's it going?!" He asks incredulously. "Mindy, what are you doing here? How did you get past security? Mindy," he begins sternly lowering his voice and leaning into her, "Did you _sneak_ past security?" Jesus, was he going to have to fight off TSA agents if they came for her? Loving Mindy was going to be the death of him.

"What? No!" she says swatting at his chest, "In these heels? Are you crazy? I have a ticket. Betsy told me what flight you were on. I'm coming with you."

She keeps talking, saying something about trying to get her seat moved next to his, but he can't really hear her over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. It isn't quite a declaration of love, but it is an act of deep caring. A sign that no matter what changes or doesn't change between them, they'll still _be_ them.

"Hello? Earth to Danny," she says waving her hands in front of his eyes jolting him back to the present. "I make this huge romantic gesture of coming all the way down here and spending an exorbitant amount of money for a plane ticket to come with you to visit your estranged father, and I am talking 'VIP package Jay Z at the Barclays' exorbitant mind you, and all you can do is stare at me with your mouth hanging open?"

He's all ready to launch into his own speech about the foolishness of paying hundreds of dollars to see anyone who isn't Bruce Springsteen perform when her words catch up to him.

"Romantic gesture?" He asks hesitantly, though he's pretty sure he's grinning at her like a mad man.

"Well, yeah," Mindy sputters, and now it's her turn to sound hesitant. "I mean on the phone you said you _like_ liked me," she finishes a little defensively not quite meeting his eyes.

"What about Cliff?" He asks holding his breath.

"I told Cliff," she begins slowly and purposely taking his hands in her own, "that there was something important I had to try. That I was sorry, but if I didn't do it now I'd never forgive myself," she finishes echoing his words from before.

"Yeah?" He asks shyly.

"Yeah," she smiles back at him.

"So we're doing this thing, right? No turning back?"

"Yes! God, you are such a coward! Will you just kiss me already?"

And there is something in hearing her call him a coward that gives him the final push he needs. Releasing her hands he moves them to her hips, a bit too low to be entirely gentlemanly. "You know, there's something we used to say on the Island whenever somebody called us chicken," he growls pulling her hips closer, aligning them with his own.

"Oh yeah?" she asks a little breathlessly. "What's that?"

"Put up or shut up." He says against her lips as he pulls her closer still and finally kisses her. It's the elevator shaft all over again as time and space rush furiously by him, but this time there's no panic or flailing. 'Falling is a whole lot nicer when you jump', he thinks to himself.

When they pull apart, she clings to his shoulders to steady herself and keeps her eyes shut as she tries to steady her breathing. "God damn, that was a good kiss," she smiles.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "God damn us, everyone!"

She nods along happily at his sentiment for a moment before popping her eyes open in confusion, "Wait. What?"

"Don't worry about it," he laughs before pulling her in for another kiss.


End file.
